Mrs. Robin's Arc

Chapter 10 of 10

The three chicks sat in the moss where they had landed. They blinked up at the tree. The nest was a small dark shape far above them. The hollow tree pantry, where Mrs. Robin had stored their berries, was higher still. She looked from the pantry to her babies on the ground and understood the problem at once. They could hop. They could flutter a wing's length. They could not climb a trunk. It was already past their feeding time. The smallest chick opened his beak and cheeped. The middle one pecked at the moss and found nothing. She had a pantry full of berries her babies could not reach. She could carry berries down one at a time. She counted the trips in her head. Three chicks. Many berries. A long day. A hawk could come. A fox could come. Her babies would be sitting in the open the whole time. She needed a lower place. A safer place. A place close to the moss bed where she could set food down and stand guard. She flew a slow circle around the base of the tree. Roots. Bare dirt. The flat stone. Then, past the moss bed, she saw it: a massive log had fallen in an old storm. The log had split along one side, and the split opened into a hollow big enough for three chicks and a mother. Vines had grown across the top. The wood was soft with age but still thick. She landed and walked inside. The floor was dry. The roof held. From within, she could see the moss bed and the sky above it. She could see anything that approached. She flew up to the pantry and took a berry in her beak. She carried it down to the log and set it on a flat piece of bark just inside the opening. She flew back. She took another. She made the trip six times before her wings ached. Six berries sat on the bark in a neat row. Then she went to her babies in the moss. She nudged the smallest with her beak. She hopped a step toward the log. He hopped after her. The other two followed. It took a long time. She did not rush them. At the opening she stepped inside and waited. One by one, they came in. They ate. She stood at the mouth of the log and watched the forest. Nothing came. When they finished, the smallest curled against his brother and closed his eyes. Mrs. Robin said thank you out loud, so they would hear it. Then she looked past the log at the trees she did not know. The pantry was behind her now. The nest was behind her. Her babies were fed, and they were somewhere new.